


Torrent

by Metz



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rain Sex, Smut, Storms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-05
Updated: 2018-11-05
Packaged: 2019-08-19 11:27:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16533731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Metz/pseuds/Metz
Summary: A sneaky new one, literally a week old at the time of posting. I made a sort of pledge to myself to pick up a little bit of writing again, and this fell out in response. I'm a little rusty, to be honest, but here it is, nevertheless.It's a PWP. With a storm and an angsty tenth Doctor.





	Torrent

 

The storm is only threatening, but the river is already in full flow, cascading over the rocks with a deafening roar as it cuts its way through the forest. The Doctor feels it in the air, and he wants to lose himself in that overwhelming force. Once he would have gloried in the power of it, assured in his superiority. Now, he is not so sure.

“Tempting, isn’t it?”

The Doctor is desperately angry that he was so wrapped up in himself he missed the Master’s approach. Scared, even, that he was so far gone. The Master comes to stand next to him, peering into the chasm, and continues. “Seeing that great swirling chaos, feeling it calling. Wanting to jump, to be swept away…” His voice is laced with emotion, laced with the urge to fall.   “I imagine if you tried really hard to suppress your instincts it would take you approximately 67 seconds to die. Give the carnivores downstream a change from their usual fare.”

The Doctor finally turns to look at him. “What are you doing here?”

 “Oh, don’t mind me, I’m just here for the view.”  The Master gestures casually at the torrent below them. “You just get on with whatever.”

“I wanted to be alone,” the Doctor said. _Did he really?_  

“It’s a big planet, Doctor. I’ll even give you a head start.”

“I’m not sure your plan to annoy me out of rash actions is doing anyone any favours.” It comes out as a hiss of frustration. “We’d all be better off if I just … stopped.”

The Master’s demeanor shifts, and his expression becomes unexpectedly gentle. “Then talk to me, Doctor. For old time’s sake.”

“What is there to say?” The Doctor looks back at the churning, rushing water. “Even if I have a good cry and walk away from here, the universe will still be too loud, too demanding, always asking for more in the back of my head. It will never stop.”

The Master thought for a moment. “Have you considered being evil?”

The Doctor shot the Master a withering look.  “Yes, that would really help. Thanks.”

“No, on second thoughts, it wouldn’t shut up then, either, it will just be begging you to leave it alone instead. On its knees. Imagine that. Doctor, oh, please stop, Doctor …”

“Stop it.” The Doctor says. It would be too easy to step over the line, he already enjoys the fiery taste of vengeance far too much. Thunder growled in the distance, matching his mood. The wind picks up, and the air pressure shifts. Across his skin, he feels the crackle of the storm.

“Do you feel that?” asks the Master. “Can’t you feel it racing along your nerves, filling you with something wild. Something alive?” He takes a deep breath.

“No,” the Doctor lies.

The Master scowls. “I think you are lying to me,” he says “I think you just don’t _want_ to feel it. Here, let me help…”

The Master moves quickly- at first the Doctor thinks he’s going for his throat and can barely bring himself to protest – but instead, the hand presses against his cheek, thumb sweeping up against his temple. Energy plays on the Master’s fingertips – him and the storm.  “Now, can you feel it Doctor?”

It rushes in, as the rain breaks overhead and the sky flashes blue with lightning. Rain, heavy and violent, falls. It surges, rough and primal, coursing through his body like the rush of the waters beneath. The storm breaks over them both, and the Doctor gasps, as surely overwhelmed as he would have been in the water. “I feel it,” he whispers, voice breaking, exultant, breathless from the sudden assault on his senses. “I want it…” the electricity prickles across his skin, rises through his spine. It is wild, primitive, and his mouth seeks out the Master’s lips, despair becoming the urge to cling on, to feel, to _fuck._

Something releases. The Master’s fingers press on the Doctor’s jaw, his eyes suddenly dark with an emotion the Doctor has not seen in a long time. The Master kisses him; almost tender, hesitant and enquiring. And then the thunder catches them, turning the kiss into hungry, needy mouths. The Doctor responds, ignoring the rain splashing harshly against his neck, as the Master’s controlling fingers knot into the Doctor’s wet hair.

The Doctor presses his hands against the Master’s chest, working on the sodden layers of clothing, catching his breath as he makes contact with the Master’s skin.  His fingers find the Master’s back, and he rakes his nails down his beloved enemy’s spine. The Master makes a desperate sound, half masked by the storm, hauling the Doctor’s shirt above his chest and claiming the nipples with his lips and tongue. The Doctor braces himself against a broad tree, the Master’s hand finding its way between the Doctor’s thighs. The scent of rain and earth and _him_ fill the Doctor’s senses.

“Yes,” the Doctor hisses. “Touch me, please!”

The Doctor’s cock is taut against his trousers, straining against the Master’s hand as he is roughly stroked through the fabric.

“Like this?” The Master growls, fingers finding the way to the Doctor’s hardness, wrapping the swollen, aching flesh tightly. There is no gentleness in it, and the Doctor whimpers.

“Yes!”

The Master is pressed close now, breathing hard. Rain runs down the Master’s throat, and the Doctor licks at it, fumbling to pull the Master’s cock free so they can rub against each other. The bark is uncomfortable and wonderful against the Doctor’s back, and he feels connected to the storm, to the energy around him for the first time in forever. Heat against heat, they rut against each other, but the Doctor needs him, more of him, all of him, needs to have the Master -someone- anyone-anyone but himself _inside_ him.

“Need, more…” the Doctor gasps, because right now this is who they are, driven by forces beyond their control. He looks into the Master’s eyes, half closed in lust and pleasure. “Oh, I need so much more…” The Master looks back, right into the heart of him, claiming him in one deep, burning thrust. The Doctor cries out, his voice lost to the volatile sky, his body trembling with emotion and pain and pleasure. Again and again the Master fucks into him, his teeth marking welts on the Doctor’s throat, the Doctor raking at the Master’s skin until he’s lost in them both. The Doctor feels it starting, him, the Master, he can barely tell, throbbing through his body, _fuck, Koschei…_ rushing in waves. The Master curses in the Doctor’s ear, motionless inside him, letting the Doctor’s pulsing body drag them both over the edge.

They somehow stay standing, panting, breathless as the rain dies away and the thunder recedes. The forest around them is still, the water a raging torrent that is somehow quieter. Eventually the Master turns his face to the Doctor, and for a moment the Doctor sees a much younger one there, as if the storm had washed a millenia away. “Don’t,” the master warns, with an echo of his snarl, “get sentimental.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” The Doctor tugs his hand through his own bedraggled hair, trying to arrange it in to some kind of order. He feels somehow cleansed by the power that ran through them, suddenly vital and clear for the first time in what seems like forever. The water no longer calls him, not today and he feels he owes the Master something for that. “Nevertheless, thank you.”

“My pleasure,” the Master says, with just the ghost of a genuine smile. “And now, if you are done willing your self-destruction, I advise you to run...”

“Business as usual then, I suppose? You try and kill me, I succeed in stopping you?”

“Oh yes,” says the Master, with a grin. “But before that, here’s something to think about. Those carnivores I mentioned?

…They are about 20 metres behind us, very, very hungry, and I am the only one here with a weapon.”

The Doctor runs.


End file.
